My books recently tagged along on a hiking adventure. They were excited to go and leave home the first time without me. It’s all they could talk about for weeks on end.
Actually they didn’t really have to do the walking; they hitchhiked along in my niece’s backpack. She was kind enough to take them when she and her father hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. As a favor to me, she took pictures of them along the trail. I’d love to hike it myself, but I don’t think I’d ever make it back out alive or with two good knees. It’s all uphill, I’m told.
On the trip she’d have to carry a backpack filled with 25 to 35 pounds of supplies which turned out to be more like 50. Two more pounds would be added because of the books, but she took them willingly.
Being a talented, creative girl I had no doubt she had big plans for the books. I decided they would provide entertainment for the travelers since there’d be others in the group. I was sure my niece would use any and all ideas…as long as one of them wasn’t to toss the books into the canyon. It turned out the couple that joined them on the trip were seasoned hikers and mountain bikers. They were very fit and forged ahead without the group at times. I’m sure they did want to throw the books into the canyon after all.
She chose a one-day down and two-day back up package. They camped overnight at the bottom of the canyon and then again halfway up Bright Angel Trail at Indian Gardens. It was a trip of a lifetime and one I’m she she’ll never forget.
I am going to end this post with a summary of her trip in her own words:
Holy crap, y’all. We made it. We freaking made it. This was hands down the hardest thing I have EVER done, ever. I literally sobbed when I got to the top.
If this is something you want to do, go for it- but do not underestimate the canyon or overestimate your ability.
An end of the summer chore—the closing of the pool. Always get a little tug of the heartstrings, a funny feeling in the pit of the stomach as I watch it happen. If you live wherever there are four seasons, you know what I mean.
People have their favorite seasons and I, like Kate in my series, like summer the best. Our reasons, though, are vastly different. Mine always signaled the end of a school year and some time to reflect before starting another. It was a gift I never took for granted. Hers indicated another year was to begin. Her life in 1927 was about to start again.
Funny how people look at the seasons differently. Some long for winter and the outdoor sports that come with it. Not me. Sledding was as far as I ever went that time of year. Fall is a favorite because of the beauty it represents. Some people drive miles to gaze at autumn foliage or plan vacations around it. Spring hints at new beginnings. The buds slowly appear on the branches and flowering trees burst on the scene.
When your favorite season ends, do you get that little tug? It’s over and you have to wait almost another year until it begins again. You have those three “other” seasons to get through.
This year I’ve made a pact with myself. Find something to love about each one. It’s not too hard with fall and spring given the reasons above. Those are my favorite parts. I don’t want to say the holidays for winter as I know many of you are thinking, because there’s a lot more days ahead after they end. I’m going to try hard to come up with something and when I do, I’ll let you know. It may not be until the dead of winter and I won’t be a happy camper.
For now, I’m going out on the deck and stare at the pool, covered over and waiting for winter. Probably dreading it just like I am.